


No Matter How Great

by arthur_pendragon



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Declarations Of Love, Episode: s05e12-13 The Diamond of the Day, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arthur_pendragon/pseuds/arthur_pendragon
Summary: Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin.This is what will happen.-note:please read the beginning and the end notes; they are part of the fic.(written for the Merlin Canon Fest 2018, episodes 512 and 513: The Diamond of the Day)





	No Matter How Great

**Author's Note:**

> _In the quiet grove I often go to listen  
>  When all is silent._
> 
> \- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, _I Think of You_

It will be the demise of winter. The morning will have just taken its first breath, and the flowers will have yet to unfurl, frozen in time.

Merlin will sit on a cold wooden bench, a man standing before him.

“You know I loved you,” Arthur will tell him.

“I know. I know that, and I know what you used to do with my scarf when you were alone, and I also know what you really think of my ears.”

Arthur will laugh, and the rich sound of it will fill Merlin with a brief burst of vigour. “Was always fond of them, _Mer_ lin.”

There will likely be very few things still unsaid in a conversation begun over a thousand years ago. Engraved in Merlin’s soul will be Arthur’s _you know I loved you_ , spoken over and over, ringing in the air with honesty, splitting the sun and the stars.

“Do you love me still?” Arthur will ask, and Merlin will sigh, sending his shaky breath into the dawn sky.

“I have belonged to you,” Merlin will say with all the weariness of someone who has thought about this so often that his words sound like rote-learnt anguish, fated to shatter on his lips and coat his tongue, “ever since the world began to turn. My burnt heart lies in the chirp of the birds that fly to you in summer, in the goblet you lifted to your mouth at Gedref.

“I see you in the swaying gilt wheat of the fields, and in the proud pink of the cherry blossoms. I kiss you when I breathe.

“Your pulse throbs in my wrists, your blessing is a coronal on my head. Arthur, I don’t know what else you want me to say; I am you. You are me.”

Arthur will blush with shyness at this answer, and reach out for Merlin’s hand.

A yawn, and another, and a third will be shared as sunlight stretches over them, illuminating the tender beauty on Merlin’s face and the gleam of his coal hair, but more the splendour of his blue eyes, argent gold in the light. Arthur will stare wistfully at him.

“What do you want now, Arthur?” Merlin will mutter, refusing to look up.

“You must be tired.”

“Must be.”

“Get some rest.”

“Soon.”

A receding seashore will plash beneath a cliff in the distance. Someone far off might start up a flute song to greet the day, some classical thing Merlin won’t care for, rolling his eyes at Arthur and casting about for nonsense to drown the pure notes out.

“Cook must be shouting at the lazy village boys by now.”

“And my knights must be clanking and groaning on the training ground. Father will be on the battlements, and you’ll be walloping me awake with my own pillow in the name of duty.”

“I liked you. More than I ought to have, now that I think about it.”

“This after _I kiss you when I breathe_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Merlin will grumble, ignoring Arthur’s beatific grin. “Treasure plain candour when you get it.”

“Beloved,” Arthur will say, touching his lips to Merlin’s knuckles. “Won’t you let yourself sleep now? You’ve kept your heart beating for a thousand years, worn the poor thing out.”

“Not yet,” Merlin will say, inhaling once the crisp air between him and his world.

“You must,” Arthur will say, gentler. “You know deep down I’m not coming.”

“I know a great many things,” Merlin will snap. “I know you’re waiting for me as I’m waiting for you. Just a little longer, all right? You’ll come, and then I’ll sleep in your arms as much as you want.”

The flute song drifting over to them will smooth over the rift, and Arthur will close his eyes and kiss Merlin’s hand again.

“You swear you’ll rest.”

“I swear I’ll die,” Merlin will say. “Now off with you.”

And his conjuration of Arthur will disappear, leaving behind dewdrops of hope as he settles in to wait for his beloved’s waking — just a little longer, or else Merlin must sleep beside him.

Arthur will return, when Merlin’s infinite winter ends.

But right now?

Right now it is the last day of autumn, and Merlin clutches his dead love as the gold leaves fall, begging an unrepentant dragon for help that comes too late.

**Author's Note:**

> _Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,_   
>  _because in that moment you'll have gone so far  
>  I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,  
> Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?_
> 
> \- Pablo Neruda, _Love Sonnet XLV_


End file.
